


paintbrushes

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [134]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23245138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: Jamie and Claire reconnect, in the aftermath of their respective adventures. Set during and immediately after 05x05 "Perpetual Adoration"
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [134]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/345047
Comments: 5
Kudos: 94





	paintbrushes

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](https://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/613032910129397760/imagine-laoghaire-s-reaction-when-she) on tumblr

I had to keep from laughing at how deeply Jamie stooped to peer through my microscope.

“I cannae see anything save a green blur.”

I tsked and carefully adjusted the lens. “It’s set for my vision - and since you wear spectacles, you may not be able to see the fine details.”

His hand gripped my hip. “Aha! There they are! Wee paintbrushes indeed.”

He stood up then, blinking harshly. “So that was what ye stabbed me with, after Laoghaire shot me.”

I nodded. “And what you refused to stab me with, on the ship.”

“But that - that was white. These are green.”

I raised one brow. “In the future, penicillin is produced in mass quantities, in laboratories. And it’s much more pure than what I’ve got here.”

He raised one of his own brows. “Just dinnae let Marsali tell her mother about this, in her next letter. Before ye ken it, she’ll be telling the folk at Balriggan that the two of ye dance about under the moon.”

“Well, you _did_ bring me home a cat.” 

He sighed. 

—

“Ye dinnae ha’ to do this,” Jamie said for the third time.

I poured the bucket of hot water into the tub. “Yes I do,” I repeated for the third time. “You’re the laird. You’ve been away on the King’s business for weeks. You’re filthy, and I refuse to lie with you until you’re clean.”

By the time I returned with the fourth and final bucket, Jamie was standing, nude, at the table in our bedroom, leafing through a book.

“Did you bring that back with you?” I asked, dumping the bucket into the tub.

He nodded. “A copy of _The Decameron_ , if ye can believe it. Long story.”

In seconds he crossed the room and squeezed into the tub. I handed him the empty bucket, and he reached between his knees to pour water over his head.

“Stop laughing, Sassenach,” he growled.

I took a deep breath, biting the back of my hand. “Someday, we’ll need to get a bigger tub made for you.”

“I refuse to waste the money.” He scrubbed at his hair, and under his arms, with the soap Bree had made. “I bathe outside in the summertime, and ye’re happy for me to wash wi’ just the basin during the winter.”

“That’s true.” I pulled up my stool to sit at his shoulder, and carefully reached out to touch his collarbone. “I can’t believe you still have this scar.”

“What, from where I was shot?” He wrung the water from his hair.

“Yes.” It was still almost a perfect circle. “I suppose you could say that I’ve been patching you up since the day we met.”

“Why else would I keep ye around this long?” He sighed. “Can ye believe, Claire - that was twenty-eight years ago now?”

“I can. Because that feels more like three or four lifetimes.”

He turned to face me, and took my hand, and kissed my fingers. “I’m so verra grateful for ye, Claire.”

I cradled his cheek, raspy with his beard. “As am I, Jamie.”

—

“You had to do it,” I whispered into his neck, sometime later.

He heaved a deep sigh. “I played every single card I had wi’ him. And then I was out of cards. I couldnae risk losing the Ridge.”

I tightened my grip on his shoulder. “And because you couldn’t just leave a redcoat officer unconscious?”

He stiffened. “I have wondered, many times, how events would have turned, had I killed that mad bastard at Fort William. But I didn’t.”

Then he shifted on the pillow, and took my hands in his. His gaze dropped.

“How can ye have me touch ye, Claire, when many men have died at these same hands?”

I raised his hands to my lips, and kissed them. “How many of them weren’t because you had to?”

He frowned. “To start with, there’s Dougal -”

“You had to. _We_ had to. And don’t even go listing the others - you were in battle many times.”

He swallowed. “It doesnae matter. I remember a verra wise woman telling me, long ago, that I did what I needed to do, and survived.”

I shifted closer to him. “Yes.”

He settled me against his shoulder, and I tangled my legs with his.

“I sometimes wonder how events would have turned, had you not been shot by that redcoat soldier on the night we met. Whether I would have had a chance to get to know you, without the guise of caring for your wound.”

“I would have found a way, Sassenach. Deliberately cut myself in the stables at Leoch, or burned myself in the kitchens.”

“That desperate, were you?”

He kissed the top of my head. “Were. Am.”

I flushed, unreasonably happy. “Had I not wanted to collect those forget-me-nots in the stone circle, I never would have fallen through time. Never would have found you. Had you not been shot, I may not have come to know you. Had you killed that bastard in his office at Fort William, perhaps the Rising would never have happened. What I’m trying to say is that we don’t know.”

“And ye can drive yerself mad wi’ the wondering. Aye.”

He kissed my forehead. “I willnae think on it, so long as I have ye with me.”

“First by chance, and now by choice.” I hugged him with all my might.

“Then, now, always,” he promised, and kissed me.


End file.
